


la vie en rose

by orphan_account



Series: young adult friction [5]
Category: Les Misérables (2012), Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Courf is a drama queen, Courfeyrac is jealous, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Jehan and Musichetta are bffs, M/M, Multi, so is Enjolras, they go flamenco dancing together
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-09
Updated: 2013-04-16
Packaged: 2017-12-07 22:55:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,772
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/754024
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Courfeyrac groans, and throws an arm over his face. He’s deeply in love, and he knows it.</p><p>He also knows that Prouvaire would never return the sentiment.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Quand il me prend dans ses bras

Courfeyrac knows he has a reputation as a bit of a player. He knows this, just as he knows that Combeferre is prone to spreading out all of his limbs in bed like some sort of four legged octopus, Feuilly always ends up falling asleep in the fetal position and makes his way steadily down the mattress through the night, Bahorel rolls around in his sleep incessantly and will push anyone else in the bed off onto the floor, and Marius cuddles. So tightly he could actually become an accidental serial killer.

Courfeyrac, however, has no idea what Prouvaire is like in bed.

But he is deeply interested to find out.

There’s only one small problem. And this problem is the fact that Jean Prouvaire is a tall, twenty-one year old man with a fairly deep voice and thick, muscular upper arms. At the same time, Jean Prouvaire is also some sort of fae, sent down on midsummer’s eve at the witching hour, spouting cantos of the Troubadours and the tales of Perrault and d’Aulnoy, a tiny wyvern tattooed on his left wrist (and Courfeyrac’s only seen it a few times; when Jehan’s done the washing up, or that one time he was painting in the front room, sunlight streaming through the window and the faint smell of anise in the air…)  
  
Courfeyrac groans, and throws an arm over his face. He’s deeply in love, and he knows it.  
  
He also knows that Prouvaire would never return the sentiment.  

 

* * *

 

Marius and Jehan are sitting in the front room on the sofa when Courfeyrac walks in, loudly talking with Combeferre on the phone.  
  
“All I’m saying, 'Ferre, is that perhaps Enj and Grantaire can work. Look, you’re a man with a heart of stone, unlike _moi,_ you don’t understand the subtle nuances of love… yes, I’ll see you tomorrow.” He puts down the phone. Then he notices the television screen.  
  
“ _The Little Mermaid?_ You’re both twenty one, and you’re watching Disney movies?”  
  
Marius turns to look at him, a bowl of popcorn in his hand, “I love this movie. We both do.”  
  
Jehan turns to regard Courfeyrac with his heavy-lidded eyes, and Courfeyrac feels his heart jump a little in his chest.  
  
“Uh... could I… could I join you guys?”  
  
Marius shuffles on the couch and Courfeyrac sits down beside him. Courfeyrac loves Marius, he really does, but in that moment he wishes that Marius could vanish into the air, so it could be just himself and Jehan, Courfeyrac and Jean Prouvaire sitting down on the sofa in the apartment they share, watching _The Little Mermaid,_ watching Sebastian sing to Eric, urging him to kiss the girl… kiss the girl…  
  
Suddenly he hears him faintly, Jehan whisper-singing along, _Don’t stop now, Don’t try to hide it how; You wanna kiss the girl..._  
  
Courfeyrac attempts to lean closer, but suddenly Flotsam and Jetsam overturn the boat Eric and Ariel are sitting in, and the moment ends.  
  
Jehan takes a sip from the cup of tea he holds in his hands.

 

* * *

  
  
He wanders down late the next morning, rubbing the sleep from his eyes and scratching the side of his scalp.  
  
Jehan is there already, something delicious frying in the pan and a full pot of coffee already on the table.  
  
“Morning, Courf. Fancy some coffee? I’m also making some bacon and eggs if you want.”  
  
“You are a beautiful human being, Jehan,” says Courfeyrac, and sits down. Jehan is always awake before he is, in the kitchen without fail every morning, making breakfast and singing softly.  
  
“I like to wake up with the sun and greet the birds,” was his reply, when Marius asked once.  
  
Courfeyrac’s phone goes off. It’s Enjolras. He frowns, because unlike Prouvaire, Enjolras will not rouse himself from his bed before noon unless he has a class or a protest to go to. And classes are over.

 

 **Enjolras:** I am going to kill things.  
  
 **Courfeyrac** _[sent to Combeferre]:_ what has happened to dear old enj?  
 **Combeferre:** [1/2] joly remembered he hadn’t taken his lactase pill before drinking a latte so now he’s camped out in the bathroom crying and he called bossuet over so they’re all at our place again and bahorel told him that it would work if he took it now but joly insisted that it was too late  >>  
<< [2/2] and he’s right because it won’t make any difference now and feuilly is attempting to find some chamomile tea but we don’t have any and enjolras looks remarkably similar to a fuse about to go off right now.  
 **Courfeyrac:** the usual then.  
 **Combeferre:** yep.

 

Courfeyrac laughs and Jehan sits down opposite him, a mug of tea in his hands. It occurs to Courfeyrac then that Jehan makes a full pot of coffee every morning, but it’s never for himself, because he’s never seen him drink coffee. He makes a full pot of coffee each morning for Marius and Courfeyrac, but he never asks them to make him cups of tea in return, and his smile in the morning is so bright it hurts.  
  
“Something happen?” he asks.  
  
Courfeyrac tries to suppress a wild grin. “Just the usual. Enjolras is having a fit because Joly’s done a Joly and their place has been invaded, once again, by Feuilly and his marching troupe.”  
  
Jehan laughs.

“Sometimes I wonder how on earth we all function together coherently.” Courfeyrac smiles.  
  
“Same, although, we don’t really… do we?” Jehan replies, frowning.  
  
“What do you mean?”  
  
“Are Grantaire and Enjolras still angry at each other? I overheard a little of your conversation on the phone last night, forgive me.”  
  
Courfeyrac shrugs, “I don’t really know. Would you really consider Grantaire one of us though? Enjolras only met him not long ago and the rest of us are still kinda vague on him as well.”  
  
Jehan looks a little upset, “I thought he was quite lovely when we spoke together. We had a long discourse on Whistler’s _Nocturne in Black and Gold_. It’s always nice to meet a fellow artist, especially one who works in different mediums. Makes for interesting conversation.”  
  
“Grantaire’s an artist?” Courfeyrac feels like the standards of the Courfeyrac Intelligence Network are slipping.  
  
“Canvas artist. Paints.”  
  
“Ah. Well, Enj will get over it. He’s a bit of a drama queen.”  
  
“I hope so. It makes me sad to see them both unhappy.” ( _It makes me sad to see you unhappy,_ thinks Courfeyrac, but he doesn’t say that.)  
  
“I should tell them then,” he smiles instead, and hopes that his mouth isn’t about to run off by itself again, as it sometimes does, “just tell them, "hey you guys, stop it; you’re making jehan upset." And then watch as they suddenly fall into each other’s arms.”  
  
Jehan, who is in the middle of taking a sip of hot tea, chokes violently. The boiling liquid burns his throat and Courfeyrac quickly goes to slap him on the back, but Jehan is now laughing and saying that _I’m fine, I’m fine Courfeyrac, you don’t need to turn into Joly on me._  
  
A small victory, Courfeyrac thinks.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Crying because the mental image of Marius, Jehan and Courfeyrac sitting down all watching Disney movies. Help.  
> For reference, a Troubadour was a composer and performer of Old Occitan lyric poetry from around 1100-1350. The canto (or canso) were their love songs. Also, ["Nocturne in Black and Gold"](http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Nocturne_in_Black_and_Gold_%E2%80%93_The_Falling_Rocket) and [wyverns](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Wyvern).
> 
>  
> 
> Thank you for reading/Merci de lire.
> 
> For fic notes, drabbles, questions and possible spin offs, hit me up at [tumblr](http://combeferresque.tumblr.com).


	2. Il me parle tout bas

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Jehan makes a plan to get Enjolras and Grantaire to fall in love, Courfeyrac wishes Prouvaire would be more obsessed with his own love life rather than other people’s, and Enjolras gets chewed out.

They’re all down at Musain one evening except Grantaire, who’s working the evening shift, and Enjolras, who is in his room reading (“more like sulking with his copies of Mill and Rosseau,” in the words of Feuilly), after having been turned down after a job interview at the local primary school.

“Knowing him, he walked in there and attempted to stage a mock French revolution with the children, complete with ketchup blood and fake guns, then re-enacted the death of Marat and the guillotining of Marie Antoinette,” laughs Bahorel.

“That’s not actually too far from the truth,” admits Marius, who had also been at the school that day in an attempt to explain to Valjean (a fourth grade English teacher) why exactly he disappeared that day when both Valjean and Cosette received warning notes from the police station. “Except he also made them all build a barricade from the desks, and I’m pretty sure one kid got hit in the face by a flying pencil case.”

There’s laughter all around.

“Actually, how is Cosette and her dear father?” asks Courfeyrac.

“Valjean was extremely nice about the entire thing,” Marius confesses, his freckled cheeks turning slightly pink, “and he made it clear that he doesn’t disapprove of the fact Cosette and I dating.”

“Oh please bring her over one day,” says Jehan, who is twiddling a piece of ribbon between his fingers and occasionally jotting down lines of verse in his notebook. “You said she’s also majoring in English?”

“Yes,” replies Marius, “with a minor in theatre.”

Courfeyrac perks up at that. “She’s minoring in theatre? How come I haven’t seen her in any of my classes before?”

“Because you’re a Bachelor of Fine Arts Theatre major, and she’s only taking the regular theatre classes,” says Combeferre, as he stands up to get himself another coffee. “Remember how the courses are split up in your department.”

“Why the hell is the drama department always so pretentious?” asks Bahorel. “I was browsing the course catalog once, and all I got was "you can only register in this course if you are a bFA major," which I’m not.”

“You’re one to talk,” snorts Feuilly. “Mr Guess-Who's-In-An-Experimental-Film-Class-This-Semester-Ha-Take-That-Feuilly.”

“Yeah, and it was a mistake. Every lecture I felt like I was tripping balls.”

Combeferre returns and slaps Bahorel on the shoulder as he moves back to his chair. “Well that’s what you get for trying to take an ‘easy’ major.”

“At least I’m majoring in _something_.” It’s an insult directed toward Feuilly, and everyone knows it.

Feuilly only laughs. “Don’t even give me that crap, Bahorel. I may not have a degree, but I taught myself how to read and write and I work and earn money and pay my bills, which is more than can be said for the Film Studies major who never attends classes and lives in _my_ basement.”

Feuilly and Bahorel often get into blows over trivial things like this, and Bossuet thinks it’s high time to change the subject.

“Remember the time Enjolras tried to get the department to allow him to triple major with honours?” he begins, laughing at the memory. “And then after he had emailed them five million times and they basically told him to go away and stop emailing, he marched right up to the undergraduate student office and demanded to see the undergrad chair.”

“Who promptly told him to fuck off,” finishes Joly.

“As much as it’s a funny memory,” interrupts Combeferre, “I do recall the time Courfeyrac kept changing his mind about his major every week or so and had to resubmit the change program form each time.”

“Don’t even start, you’re the one who reads philosophy in your spare time because you can’t take it as a minor in pre-med,” Courfeyrac quips right back. “When do you even have spare time, anyway? You’re supposed to be a long suffering science student.”

“It’s not that bad,” Joly replies. “You just need to make sure you study and keep yourself fit and healthy so you don’t get sick and fall behind.”

Courfeyrac suddenly notices that Jehan is frowning down at his notebook.

“Something wrong, Jehan?”

“Are Grantaire and Enjolras still mad at each other?” Jehan is still preoccupied with peace and harmony among all men, it seems.

Combeferre frowns into his drink, “Not really, not anymore. They’re just letting it quieten down peacefully. And by that I mean they’re not speaking. Although, I’ve known Enjolras the longest out of everyone, and even I haven’t seen him this mad at one person for such a long time. Grantaire seems to have a way of getting under his skin.”

“Which reminds me,” interrupts Jehan, “I have a plan.”

“A plan for what?” asks Marius.

“A plan to get Enjolras and Grantaire together. I think they work well as a pair.”

There’s a pause as everyone simultaneously chokes on their drinks, and Feuilly raises one eyebrow.

“Oh, so you caught onto it too. That’s good; I thought I was going insane wondering if I had suddenly grown an overactive gay-dar.”

Jehan is beaming, “you’ll help me then?”

“Nope,” replies Feuilly quickly, as he stands up to leave, “sorry mate, you’re on your own. I’ve sworn off trying to get people together.”

“Why?” asks Jehan, with a crestfallen face. “Did something bad happen?”

“Yeah, I introduced Joly and Bossuet to each other. And then I introduced Musichetta to them both. Now my house is constantly full of three people making out on the couch with no self-restraint whatsoever.”

Joly and Bossuet both blush furiously, and Bahorel laughs and slaps them both on the back, sending Joly into a coughing fit.

“So… sorry but I’m out,” continues Feuilly. “I do not want to see Enjolras and Grantaire having constant lover’s spats and furious make-up sessions.”

“Don’t worry, Jehan,” says Combeferre, “I’ll help. But who is in, then? Raise your hands if you also want to help Jehan get Enjolras and Grantaire together.”

Slowly Marius, Bossuet, Joly and Bahorel raise their hands. Feuilly gives Bahorel a look, who shrugs and replies, “I dunno. It’d be hilarious.”

“Courf?” prompts Combeferre. Courfeyrac is pulling an almost pained expression in Jehan’s direction. “Do you not want to help? I thought _you_ of all people would want to.” There’s a dry mocking tone to Combeferre’s speech, and Courfeyrac would call him out on it except his brain is currently shutting down at the fact Jehan Prouvaire is more interested in other people’s love lives than his own.

Then he realises helping Jehan fulfill his duty as the good fairy would definitely make him look better in Jehan’s books, and working with Jehan meant spending more time with Jehan, and more time with Jehan meant…

“I’ll help,” he announces. “Jehan is good with love, but his area of expertise is courtly love, the kind you find in medieval texts with star-crossed lovers meeting on balconies. Grantaire and Enjolras are more furious hate-sex, if you ask me.”

Jehan makes a strangled sound.

“And you would be an expert on furious hate-sex?” remarks Combeferre dryly.

“Of course,” smirks Courfeyrac. “Jehan may be Aphrodite, but I am Eros.”

 

* * *

 

 

* * *

 

Of course, the plan cannot start properly until Friday, because Jehan has his evening flamenco dance class with Musichetta from seven till nine on a Wednesday, and Thursdays are always spent down at Musain.

Courfeyrac thinks he should start taking up Spanish dance lessons.

Enjolras looks especially passionate tonight, engaged in a long philosophical rant, and Grantaire slouches at the back of the café, bottle in hand, trying very hard not to look like he’s paying attention (but everyone knows he is). He’s only just started coming to the gang’s Thursday Musain nights, peppered with Enjolras’ frequent bouts of revolutionary vigor, but each time he’s sat at the far back, bottle in hand, and Enjolras never pays him any attention.

Enjolras finishes with a short anecdote about the current rising unemployment rates and lack of aid for those without jobs, and Courfeyrac thinks it’s a less-than-subtle quip about not getting the job at the school.

Suddenly, he has a flash of inspiration. Sliding up to Grantaire, he asks casually, “is your place hiring?”

Grantaire jerks up in alarm from where he had been resting his head in his arms on the table, and replies, “my place is always hiring. Actually it’s rather funny to hear our dear Enjolras talk so fervently about unemployment when there are stores all over this town begging for summer work. Why do you ask, Courf? Thinking of applying?”

“Oh, just wondering,” he replies, and shoots the others a mass text.

 **Courfeyrac** _[sent to Combeferre, Bossuet, Jehan, Joly and Bahorel] **:**_ grantaire’s place is totally hiring what if we managed to get enjy a job there cAN U IMAGINE THEM WORKING TOGETHER  
 **Combeferre:** i’d rather not think about the rammifications of enjolras and grantaire working in the same place but go for it if you’re so inclined.  
 **Bossuet:** i say go for it  
 **Joly:** You’ll need to get his resume somehow  
 **Bahorel:** DUDE DO IT I need more hilarity in my life

 **Courfeyrac** _[sent to Joly] **:**_ ur gonna have to help me with that one enj never lets me go into his room  
 **Joly** _[sent to Courfeyrac] **:**_ That’s because last time you did you put up pictures of Napoleon and Louis XVI all over his wall and his desk  
 **Courfeyrac** _[sent to Joly] **:**_ hey it was funny at the time  
 **Joly** _[sent to Courfeyrac] **:**_ Ferre and I got nothing but him ranting about the problems of the French monarchy for an entire week afterward  
 **Courfeyrac** _[sent to Joly] **:**_ oh. whoops

 **Enjolras** _[sent to Joly and Courfeyrac] **:**_ You two keep texting. If you have something interesting to tell the rest of us, please share.

Courfeyrac snaps his phone shut, and thinks that Enjolras needs to learn to stop being so damn nosy.

 

* * *

 

It’s getting late, and Grantaire rises to leave the others. He’s feeling a little sick and dizzy, and wants to get home. He ignores the extra amount of bottles he’s emptied tonight, and hopes no one else has noticed.

Of course, Combeferre has noticed, because nothing escapes Combeferre.

“Hey,” he asks, “you alright, Grantaire?”

“I’m fine,” Grantaire says quickly, though his brain feels like it’s shifting in his head. “Just feel a little unwell. I’m going home.”

“Not on your own you’re not,” Feuilly says firmly, pushing himself to his feet. “I’m going to drive you home.”

Grantaire makes a vague gesture of protestation, but Bahorel and Feuilly manhandle him outside. Combeferre has engaged Enjolras in low conversation, and glances over worriedly, but Enjolras doesn’t seem to have noticed. Or if he has, he’s deliberately not paying any attention.

Combeferre would not describe himself a violent man, but just this once he feels like punching his best friend.

Feuilly bundles Grantaire into his car and drives off. Courfeyrac rounds on Enjolras.

“Enj, you need to grow up and talk to him already.”

Enjolras looks dismissive. “He’s fine. I don’t even know why he bothers associating with us anyway. He made it very clear he has no interest in our beliefs.”

Bahorel rolls his eyes dramatically. “Just because he’s not politically aligned with us doesn’t mean he can’t be our friend, ya dipshit.”

Enjolras goes to protest, but Combferre interrupts. “We all know how passionate you are about social justice, and I guess it’s unfortunate that Grantaire doesn’t feel the same, but that’s definitely no reason to cut him off. He comes and listens to you because because he considers himself your friend. _Our_ friend. And you should really talk to him, because you’re twenty-two years old and what you’ve been doing is childish. And I say this to you as your friend, Enjolras,” he says firmly, hands on his hips.

Enjolras looks uncomfortable.

“I for one consider Grantaire my friend,” says Jehan.

There’s a murmur of assent among the others, and Enjolras swallows.

“Fine. I’ll… I’ll try to talk to him,” he manages finally, and Jehan looks satisfied.

 

* * *

 

Feuilly slowly slides up to Grantaire’s apartment complex in his car and peers out the window suspiciously. It resembles alarmingly the rundown neighbourhoods that he used to live at when he was younger, and the memories he has of such places aren’t particularly fond ones.

“You gonna be alright man?” he calls, as Grantaire shakily lets himself out of the car. There’s a pause as Grantaire grips the car door in a death grip, before he promptly lets go and collapses.

Feuilly launches himself out the other door and runs around, picking Grantaire’s limp body off the ground.

“God,” he grits, “looks like you’re coming home with me.”

He hauls Grantaire back into the passenger seat. There’s what appears to be a sprayed over mural on a wall nearby, and Feuilly is distracted by it for a moment, before the sound of Grantaire groaning snaps him back to reality.

By the time he gets home, Bahorel and Bossuet have returned, and they all jump up in alarm at the sight of Feuilly half carrying, half dragging Grantaire into the front hall.

“He’s staying here tonight. In your room, Bahorel, 'cause you’ve got the most space. And I’m not letting him go back to his place. It’s not a nice neighbourhood.”

Bahorel nods.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading/Merci de lire.
> 
> For fic notes, drabbles, questions and possible spin offs, hit me up at [tumblr](http://combeferresque.tumblr.com).


	3. Je vois la vie en rose

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Enjolras ends up getting a job at Grantaire's place, Combeferre has to put up with a lot, and Courfeyrac finally goes on a date with Jehan.

Courfeyrac wakes the next morning to a text from Bahorel.

 **Bahorel:** yo dude do u have any aspirin  
 **Courfeyrac:** i think marius has a secret stash somewhere. why?  
 **Bahorel:** we dont  
 **Courfeyrac:** yeah i got that much but who needs it its ten in the morning  
 **Bahorel:** no its 4 grantaire hes nursing a killer hangover  
 **Courfeyrac:** wtf?

 **Courfeyrac:** grantaires at ur place?  
 **Feuilly:** Took him home and he freaking passed out. Plus his apartment’s not a nice place. Im not letting him go back there.  
 **Courfeyrac:** im coming over.  
 **Feuilly:** k.

He rushes out of the door, past a startled Marius and Jehan who are sitting at the kitchen table discussing something or another, and sprints across the street.

Combeferre, who had been watching from the window, opens the door just as he lifts his hand to knock.

“Good morning, Courfeyrac.”

“Dude, can I borrow your car?”

Combeferre narrows his eyes, the way he does when he suspects Courfeyrac is planning something (and truth be told, most of the time he is).

“What for, Courf?”

“Gonna go see Grantaire. He’s over at Feuilly’s.”

“What? Why is he at Feuilly’s?”

“Feuilly wouldn’t let him go home, said he was in a bad way. Plus, I think he’s adopted him. He lives in a really run-down neighbourhood.”

Combeferre is already pulling on a jacket. “I’ll come too.”

Courfeyrac strains his head to try and see into Enjolras’s room, but the door is closed. Combeferre notices his glance.

“Enjolras is asleep. Went to bed late.”

“Ah. What about Joly?”

“He’s out.”

 

* * *

 

The two of them arrive at Feuilly’s house just in time to see Bossuet, who is watering the lawn with the garden hose, dramatically trip over it and land face first into the daises. Courfeyrac winces. Bossuet springs back up again.

“I’m okay!”

“Is Grantaire still here?” Courfeyrac calls.

“Yep!” Bossuet calls back cheerfully, “Feuilly made him breakfast and stuff. He looks like shit though.”

Bahorel lets them in and they all gather around the kitchen table with mugs of coffee. Combeferre talks quickly with Feuilly for a moment, before sitting down and carefully resting his arms on the polished wood.

“Feuilly says the neighbourhood you’re living at is…” he pauses for a moment, trying to find the right words, “not particularly the safest.”

Grantaire looks at him. “No shit.”

“That came out wrong, sorry. Okay uh… basically what we’re trying to say is that we’re your friends, we want to look out for you, and we’re… kinda worried.” He glances around at the others, who nod.

Grantaire regards him with one raised eyebrow. “Worried.”

“Yes.”

“So what exactly are you trying to get at?”

“What he’s getting at, Grantaire, is that Feuilly is offering you a place to stay,” interrupts Bahorel. Feuilly winces.

“I don’t need your charity, thank you very much.” Grantaire lifts himself to his feet, as if to go.

“Look Grantaire, we didn’t mean to insult you or anything-” begins Courfeyrac.

“I’m going home.” Grantaire’s gaze is set. Finally Combeferre sighs, and picks up his car keys.

“I’ll take you home.”

 **Grantaire:** shit i didnt mean to like insult u or anything by turning down ur offer but like… u kno.  
 **Feuilly:** no I get it. apologies.  
 **Grantaire:** nothing to apologize for. enjolras didnt show that much concern when he came over to my place tho  
 **Feuilly:** Yeah well Enjolras is a dickwad and i’m gonna punch him next time i see him.  
 **Grantaire:** just dont mess up his angelic face. wanna go for a drink tomorrow like u me + bahorel?  
 **Feuilly:** u bet I do.

 

* * *

 

When Combeferre and Courfeyrac arrive back, Enjolras is frowning down at his phone.

“When did I submit a resume for a corner shop…?”

Combeferre and Courfeyrac exchange a glance.

 **Courfeyrac:** dude what did you do  
 **Joly:** took the initiative. i gave them his resume.  
 **Courfeyrac:** oh my god you did it WITHOUT TELLING ME??  
 **Joly:** you’d disappeared somewhere what did you want me to do

“Did I go out and give them my resume?” Enjolras turns to Combeferre for advice, who shrugs. He then turns to Courfeyrac.

“Look man you’ve been whipping those things around everywhere how am I supposed to know?”

Enjolras frowns. “They said they want me for an interview tomorrow, if I was free. They seem desperate for work.”

“Well, if Éponine and Grantaire’s killer shifts are anything to go by-” Courfeyrac finishes his sentence with a muffled choke as he realises what he’s just said.

Enjolras’ face is thunderous.

“Wait. _That_ corner shop? The one Grantaire works at? I didn’t give in my resume there, I would have remembered. I-” he breaks off, a confused look on his face.

Combeferre sneaks silently into his room and shuts the door. Courfeyrac slips out.

 

* * *

 

 **Courfeyrac:** u bastards we were all supposed to be in this together  
 **Jehan:** well you’d disappeared off to Feuilly’s, so Joly, Marius and I took our chance  
 **Courfeyrac:** gdi

Of course, Enjolras goes to the interview anyway, because he’s that sort of person.

“I’ll get you for this,” he hisses, as Joly and Courfeyrac push him out of the door, smiling sweetly.

“Good luck!” Courfeyrac calls, waving his hand.

Enjolras flips him the bird.

 

* * *

 

He comes back looking shaken, and Jehan, who is sitting with Courfeyrac on the sofa, wordlessly slips off the couch and goes to make him a cup of tea. Combeferre looks concerned.

 **Combeferre:** now I am getting rather worried. I feel like I shouldn’t have agreed to this.  
 **Courfeyrac:** dude it was a fucking job interview what the hell could have gone wrong  
 **Combeferre:** this is Enjolras.

“So how did it go?” Jehan asks, standing at the counter with a half-eaten apple in his hand.

“…I got the job.”

“Well… that’s great isn’t it?”

“Éponine gave me the interview.”

“Oh.”

“It wasn’t so much an interview as an if-you-make-one-mistake-I’m-going-to-cut-off-your-balls-with-a-rusty-spoon talk. And apparently she’s still not forgiven me for what happened with Grantaire.”

“Well I don’t blame her,” Jehan replies, “I’ve still not entirely forgiven you for that either.”

Enjolras shoots him a look.

“What? It’s true.”

“Thanks guys. You’re all so supportive.”

“Well now you get to work with Grantaire!” Courfeyrac says brightly. “So then you can learn how to get along better an-” he breaks off as Jehan pinches his foot sharply.

“Why do I feel like you lot are always plotting something against me?”

 

* * *

 

Courfeyrac catches Combeferre just as the other man is hauling a pile of philosophy books out of his room and into the hallway. Combeferre turns around, jumps, and presses a hand to his chest.

“I’m not going to even ask anymore how you keep getting into my apartment.”

“I know all about the spare key under the doormat. Anyways, can I talk to you for a sec?”

Combeferre gestures towards the books. “I’m kinda busy at the moment, Courf.”

“I know. But this is important.”

Combeferre stands there silently for a moment. Finally he sighs, and makes his way over to the couch.

“What do you need?”

“I’m in love with Jehan.”

Combeferre makes a weird noise. “…I see. Okay. And what would you like me to do about this?”

“I don’t need you do anything! Jesus Christ 'Ferre, I could use some advice! Like… how do I go about it? I can’t just walk up to him and be like ‘hello Jehan would you like to get wildly drunk with me and fuck passionately on my bed’! It’s Jehan. He like… he’s some fairy creature! He wouldn’t just want a one night stand with his friend. I don’t just want a one night stand. I want to take him out into the countryside and catch butterflies with him and go to concerts with him and fall asleep watching old silent movies!” he breaks off with a strangled groan.

Combeferre is making that expression that means he is suppressing laughter and trying desperately to keep a straight face.

“Courf. I’m not exactly… well. I’m not exactly the kind of person you should be talking to about relationship advice.”

“Don’t think I haven’t noticed you checking out ‘Ponine! Anyways, you’re my best friend and... you’re more beautiful than me!”

There’s a pause. Combeferre raises an eyebrow.

“I mean, everyone knows I’m that player guy who scores weekly. But I don’t want Jehan to feel that way; like he’s just some conquest of mine. I want… you read philosophy and you’re so much mellower and calm like he is and we’ve all known each other for years but I’ve always felt like you understand him more! I want to understand him.” They’ve reverted back to speaking in French, the way Courfeyrac always does when he’s getting highly strung, and Combeferre runs a hand through his hair.

“Courf. Listen. What I’m going to tell you is really important.”

Courfeyrac leans in eagerly.

“You can’t make people love you. But, if you want Jehan to be convinced that your feelings are sincere and you’re not just looking for something quick, you have to do this properly. And you have to do it in a way Jehan will understand. You can’t do this the way you usually would.”

Courfeyrac is making a strange face. “Like, courting? Flowers and poems and romantic walks in the park?”

“Uh, you could say that, yes.”

“But I don’t know any of that stuff!”

“Oh for heaven’s sake, Courfeyrac, stop being dramatic. How hard could it possibly be?”

Courfeyrac slumps over on the couch and buries his face into a cushion.

“I should have asked Marius his advice instead of your shitty opinions.”

“Well maybe you should have,” Combeferre retorts, standing up and going back to his pile of books. “Goodbye Courfeyrac. Tell me how it goes.”

“Man, fuck you.”

Combeferre waves goodbye cheerily.

 

* * *

 

♕ **courf** ♕ **:** help meeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee  
 **Marius Pontmercy ♥ in love with Cosette ♥:** What happened? Why are you skyping me? Oh god, is the house on fire? I can’t smell smoke  
♕ **courf** ♕ **:**  shut up we’re fine. im skyping you bc i don’t want jehan to hear us talking  
 **Marius Pontmercy **♥ in love with Cosette ♥** :** What?  
♕ **courf** ♕ **:**  ok so ur totally in love with this cosette chick right  
 **Marius Pontmercy **♥ in love with Cosette ♥** :** Cosette is beautiful and lovely and delicate and it’s true love!  
♕ **courf** ♕ **:** yeah yeah cool ok. so like im gonna tell u a secret and uve gotta keep it a secret  
 **Marius Pontmercy **♥ in love with Cosette ♥** :** Ok! *salutes*  
♕ **courf** ♕ **:**  ...ok  
♕ **courf** ♕ **:** so anyways im totally in love with jehan i think i have been for years but i have no idea how to make him fall in love with me and im just ARG why do i have to share an apartment with the guy im in love with i dont fucking know how to court him or whatever hes so beautiful and poetic and romantic and then theres me and i havent even asked him out on a date yet oh gOD  
 **Marius Pontmercy **♥ in love with Cosette ♥** :** …Why don’t you just ask him to go see a movie with you or something?  
♕ **courf** ♕ **:** …

 **Courfeyrac:** dude u wanna go see a movie with me tonight?  
 **Jehan:** sure (: what’s playing?  
 **Courfeyrac:** apparently the theatres playing some old musicals this week. tonight theyre showing Chicago.  
 **Jehan:** I love that one! Sure I’d love to go  
 **Courfeyrac:** yay  
 **Jehan:** is Marius coming too?  
 **Courfeyrac:** no uh um he has a date with cosette… just wanted it to be a fun outing with just us.  
 **Jehan:** oh okay! (:

It’s incredibly hard to get ready for a (pseudo) date when your date lives in the same apartment as you, but Courfeyrac tries his best, helped over skype chat by Combeferre and Joly (who had overheard the entire conversation earlier). Combeferre and Joly, however, are admittedly not the greatest advice givers.

♕ **courf** ♕ **:**  how about this shirt?  
♕ **courf** ♕ **:** oh come on u guys ur not even looking at the screen anymore  
 **Combeferre:** that shirt looks exactly the same as your last shirt.  
♕ **courf** ♕ **:**  no it doesnt that shirt was peach and this one is salmon!  
 **Combeferre:** right.  
 **Joly** ☤ **:** I think the real question here is why are you even contemplating wearing a salmon shirt  
♕ **courf** ♕ **:**  ur right. what should i wear.  
 **Joly** ☤ **:**  dude idk don’t ask me  
♕ **courf** ♕ **:**  oh for fucks sake  
♕ **courf** ♕ **:**  what did u wear for ur first date with bossuet and/or musichetta  
 **Joly** ☤ **:**  …  
♕ **courf** ♕ **:**  come on dude help a brother out  
 **Joly** ☤ **:** >first date with bossuet: skinny jeans, white shirt, hat >first date with bossuet and musichetta: cargo pants, green shirt + scarf. bossuet wore blue  
♕ **courf** ♕ **:**  cARGO PANTS?? U WORE CARGO PANTS ON A DATE WITH TWO ATTRACTIVE PEOPLE??  
 **Joly** ☤ **:** are you coming onto my boyfriend and my girlfriend  
♕ **courf** ♕ **:**  no but jfc  
♕ **courf** ♕ **:**  wait where did ferre go  
 **Joly** ☤ **:** he got bored

Suddenly, there’s a knock at his bedroom door and Courfeyrac shrieks.

♕ **courf** ♕ **:** shit its him time to go wish me luck  
 **Joly** ☤ **:**  go get him tiger  
♕ **courf** ♕ **:** wtf  
 **Joly** ☤ **:** shit sorry that was bossuet he just arrived  
♕ **courf** ♕ **:** …pls don’t ever say that again

He opens the door to see Jehan, dressed in a pale green jeans and a dark blue shirt, a ludicrous assortment of braided ribbons and bracelets up his arms, and a faded floral scarf around his neck. Courfeyrac thinks he’s going to burst.

“Ready, Courfeyrac?”

He breathes once. Twice.

“Yeah. Yep, I’m all good!”

They pass Marius on their way out, and Jehan wishes Marius a fun time on his date. Marius looks confused for a moment and opens his mouth, before Courfeyrac firmly pushes Jehan out the door and shuts it. Then his phone goes off.

 **Marius:** did I have a date????  
 **Courfeyrac:** no u didnt stop worrying

 **Combeferre:** I suppose I should wish you good luck. not that you need it.  
 **Courfeyrac:** i dont quite know if that was an insult or a compliment

 **Joly:** Yeah sorry about bossuet but good luck

 **Bossuet:** Joly told me about tonight. GOOD LUCK BRO

 **Feuilly:** Good luck on your date (bossuet told me)

 **Bahorel:** GO SCORE IM ROOTING FOR YA

 **R:** bahorel told me that u have a date with jehan lmfao fuck im laughing ok ok sorry but like good luck + all

Courfeyrac hates his friends sometimes. He really does.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oh god this entire fic has just turned into the amis on skype and texting iM SORRY [guess who should be studying. nope. not me. not at all. cries.]
> 
> Anyway that is the end of this part! But no, that's definitely not the end of Courfeyrac and Jehan's blossoming romance. I've always seen Courfeyrac/Jehan as having a very slow build relationship, so don't worry, they will get together. But not quite yet.
> 
>  
> 
> Thank you for reading/Merci de lire.
> 
> For fic notes, drabbles, questions and possible spin offs, hit me up at [tumblr](http://combeferresque.tumblr.com).


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